


Celebrating Virtue

by darkeyedresolve



Category: National Football League RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-08
Updated: 2011-05-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:36:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkeyedresolve/pseuds/darkeyedresolve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Catholics are prone to doing, Brian and Brady are celebrating their last night of debauchery before lent begins. It is just a happy coincidence they are in the same bar in the same city, or maybe it’s a miracle. This would be during the 2009-2010 off season, so Cushing just won his rookie of the year of the award and Quinn is languishing in Cleveland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celebrating Virtue

 

            Was it really that big of a coincidence that he was here too?  Brady shouldn’t think too much; it was New Orleans and it was Fat Tuesday, so anyone looking for a good time could be in this city tonight. Personally, he had to get out of Cleveland; it was too depressing to spend his last night of freedom there. Quinn stared into the crowd of moving people on the dance floor in the bar where he was sure Brian Cushing was in the middle of it. Even though he chopped of that annoying hair, Brady still remembered his face well. He had seen it every year for three seasons and usually more up close than he wanted. It was always that same smirk on those lips each time Cushing managed to get his arms around his body and shove him into the turf. He grew to hate that face, but now they were off the field.

This is the present; Cushing was looking good to Brady now. He had those full lips that were made for sucking cock. The body was big and powerful, not sloppy or fat. The obvious muscles moved and shifted under the soft fabric of that t-shirt he wore, which was some kind of over the top Affliction brand. Even with the imposing body, Cushing had a baby face that would look good begging for more. Brian’s jeans were fitted, not enough for Quinn’s liking, but enough to judge he had a round, thick ass to go with those big legs. The man was a perfect last meal before self imposed spiritual fast started. If the rumors were true, Quinn had a pretty good shot of getting a bite.  

            “So hey…”

            Brady turned his attention away from the dance floor grinding and back to this girl he had thought about fucking. She looked good, at first anyway, with her long blond hair and tits that were pushing out of her tiny, pink top. The girl, whatever her name was, was pretty much perfect for what Quinn was looking for. At first she would have been a good choice for his last one night stand before lent, but now he had forgotten her name. He was actually getting annoyed that she was taking him away from staring as Cushing’s dancing body. Maybe it was the liquor the linebacker had been consuming, but he moved really well.

            “Uh huh”, Quinn answered but he turned his eyes back to the dance floor, where the hard bass was thumping the very walls of the bar.

            He wondered if Cushing knew what this bar was about; it was pretty much a gay bar in the twisting streets of New Orleans. Brady hadn’t decided it he wanted a boy or girl for his “last meal” and at least here he could pick out whatever he wanted. Most queers brought one or two straight girls with them when they went out, so there was enough to go around. If the rumors about Brian were true, which even being a gay bar didn’t automatically mean anything, this at least made them seem true. The roid thing was turned out to be true, but most guys with NFL aspirations juiced, and Cushing looked dumb enough to do it. Dumb but he was hot, especially with that faux hawk going on.

            “You still want to do it right?” The girl was drunk enough not to pretend about what she wanted, she looked annoyed though by his sudden indifference.

            “Eh, let’s dance first.” Brady took her by the hand and took her loose, stumbling body out to the crowded floor. She was feather light to him and clung on to his body, the high heels scraping the ground as she tried to keep up.

            Quinn liked to dance, there were pictures of his sister’s wedding floating around online to prove that. Holding whatever her name was close, he kept her face pressed into his chest so he could look around freely. He weaved them through couples of various gender and racial mixes, until he was a breath away from the former Trojan star. Quinn really hoped this worked because fucking the man that helped tarnish an otherwise golden college career was worth forty days without any hook ups. Cushing was totally unaware that Quinn was now at his side and that was good enough for Brady. He just wanted to watch and move to the beat, while his mind rolled the scenario in his head.

Brian Cushing actually took lent pretty seriously and planned on sticking to his no alcohol promise, but he was going to live it up till then. He had come to New Orleans with a few players from Houston because who really passes on an invitation to Mardi Gras in the Big Easy. He had already had a few shots in him before he got to the bar, so he was buzzed walking through the crowded doorway. While not the best decision marker sober, he figured no one would recognize him in a gay bar in a state he never lived in. Brian just wanted to have a good time, and he had enough alcohol in him to ensure it.

Cushing was bouncing from partner to partner; since he was still sober enough to know what he was looking for. He wanted someone that could keep up with him, and not many people could handle a real life NFL player. Brian was working with his powerful body against this nicely built man in tight jeans when a hand tugged on his shoulder. He didn’t pay attention at first, until the fingers dug into the soft fabric of his t-shirt and jerked him around.

“What the hell…” Cushing twisted his full lips into an annoyed grimace as he looked at the body that the hand was connected too.

“Happy Mardi Gras, Cushing.” Brady Quinn said while loosely holding his now mostly forgotten girl next to him.

“Quinn…” Cushing relaxed his body when he recognized the other man; he had no ill will against Quinn. He tilted his head slightly as the annoyed look turned into a confused look of wonder. “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you I bet, having a last hurrah before lent?” Quinn let his eyes roam over the athlete’s body in front of him. The overly ornate t-shirt clung to the large muscular curves of the linebacker’s body. He could easily imagine that body naked on a bed underneath him; yea that’s how he wanted Cushing. On his back, like Brady had been made to do all their other times together.

“Heh, yea you can say that.” Cushing quickly got back into the heat of the moment, “I am getting sloshed for the last time.” He had a small glass in his hand and he downed the last little bit of dark liquid down into his mouth. He moaned, loud enough to carry over the electronic warble of Britney Spears, and Quinn felt his dick twitch under his jeans.

‘Too fucking easy.’ Brady thought and almost wondered if he should cross himself to thank God for giving him this gift.

“You’re giving up alcohol huh?” Quinn moved in closer and let the music drown out the fidgeting girl beside him, who was now getting an impression of being unwanted.

“Mm hmm and with a bang too, man.” Cushing lifted his now empty glass to the quarterback, while he ran his eyes blatantly over him. He might dislike Notre Dame, or hate even, but Quinn had been a fun quarterback to tackle. Brian could always get another grab on the pretty boy after slamming him into the ground.

“Glass is empty,” Brady pointed to it and laughed to himself as Cushing’s lips pursed into a pout, “Well let’s go get you another one, man.”

Quinn didn’t bother telling what’s her name bye, he just let go of her and she stumbled into the faceless mass behind him. He thought he could hear some kind of shouting but that was probably just the squeals of excited fags over the new song playing. With an easy move, he put an arm around Cushing’s waist and directed the inebriated man back to crowded bar.

“Heh that’s real cool of you,” Cushing smiled with his big mouth and leaned against Quinn, “I think I’ll go with…” He bit on his bottom lip for a moment as he eyes gazed up the ceiling, “Patron…”

“Sure you can handle that?” Quinn pressed Brian into the dark wood counter of the bar, actually pinning the bigger man there with his own body. He actually figured Cushing wasn’t that far gone yet, but might as well rile him up about it.

“Man, I’m two hundred and fifty pounds,” Cushing had an animated face and it shifted from smiling to annoyed again, “I can handle a shot.” He parted his fingers to the size of a glass, or at least a good estimate of it. Brian didn’t seem to mind that he was now pressed body to body against Brady, though he was more focused on this shot.

“Think it’s more can you handle shot fourteen or fifteen...” Quinn raised his hand and got the bartender’s attention from around Cushing’s body to order the shot. The bartender, an older looking man, gave the pair an appreciative glance before sliding the shot of clear tequila over to Quinn.

“It’ll be twelve…” Cushing was trying to retrace his drinks as the cold glass was put into his large hand, “Or thirteen maybe…” He furrowed his brow as he stared down at the shiny drink, and Quinn thought it was the most amusing sight.

“Well thirteen is a shitty number to end on, Cush.” Quinn tapped a finger against the glass,” Bottoms up.” He was even more amused at how easy the linebacker was to taking orders as he downed the shot.

Brian felt the chilled liquor turning hot as it went down his throat and seemed like it took a detour right into his brain. He opened his mouth to let out of groan but it was suddenly muffled. With eyes wide, Cushing stared into Quinn’s face as the quarterback suddenly devoured his lips. Buzzing from alcohol, he didn’t do anything but let the tongue push into his mouth. Brian moved a hand up and entangled it into longer, thicker hair that Quinn was sporting. Even though he knew the music was blaring around him, Brian couldn’t hear anything but the soft moans Brady made while they were kissing.

Brady could taste some of the tequila in Cushing’s mouth as he invaded the drunken man. He tightened his one arm around the other’s waist while he moved his other hand down along the thigh. Moving in a slow but deliberate fashion, Brady pushed his hand against the linebacker’s crotch. He smiled against the other man’s full lips when he felt the muscular body tense up as his hand cupped the bulge. Quinn manipulated his fingers around denim covered shaft; it twitched under each teasing press of his finger.

Yes, this was a gift from the good Lord for being a good Catholic boy.

“Let’s go.” Quinn broke the kiss and didn’t give Brian a chance to recover from it when he jerked on his arm move.

The club was blurring mass of people and lights but Cushing focused on the pretty boy quarterback from Notre Dame. He didn’t bother resisting as his body was pulled off the counter and lead toward the door. Brian wanted this just as much as Brady, even if he didn’t plan on Quinn showing up. No, he figured it would be some anonymous drunk guy that would disappear into the fog of his mind when the morning came. He did frown as they got closer to the door and he suddenly stopped to take stock of what was going on.

“What?” Brady turned around to stare at the pouting athlete, while still tugging on his thick arm.

“What’s this all about?” Cushing asked as he tried to get in control of the situation, even if it was a façade.

“It’s about lent.” Quinn managed to get Brian moving again, that was a feat considering the weight difference between the two. He did have the advantage of being sober and Cushing was teetering even when standing.

“Making this thing a religion thing…” Cushing laughed loudly as he got outside of the club and the cool night air hit him, “That’s like blasphemy or something.”

A few other couples were mingling outside on the street; each one in a different state of liquor fueled stupor. They gave Brian and Quinn a look, and mostly a look of annoyance since this was another couple that needed a cab to get home. Brady noticed and honestly didn’t give a damn as he kept an arm around the laughing linebacker as he hailed for a ride out.

“It’s probably a cardinal sin.” Quinn smirked as he pulled Cushing in closer and pressed his lips against the thick neck. He tasted the slightly sweat skin as he moved his lips up along to Cushing’s jaw line, which was remarkable smooth.

“Ooh that’s one of the big ones, Quinn.” Brian arched his head to the side as the lips touched his skin. He felt a hot shiver run down his body and the alcohol made everything funny, so his moan was more of a low pitched chuckle.

Brady was having a harder time keeping himself composed, even if he was the sober one. He hated Affliction shirts and it was even more motivation to rip the damn thing off Cushing right there as his hands pushed under it. He was could feel the thick cords of muscle as he slides his hands up along the sides of Brian’s body. Cushing didn’t seem to mind that he was being undressed in public considering the sounds coming out his mouth. Quinn pushed the shirt up more as he moved his mouth up and took a hold of Brian’s lips again. They there so big and so soft, they were going to be so nice on his dick.

Cushing could feel the humid night air breathing against his exposed skin as the quarterback fondled his body. He put his hands around the other man’s forearms but didn’t do much to stop the rise of his shirt on his body. Acting without barriers, Brian stuck his tongue deep into Brady’s mouth when their lips touched. He tasted a little of what Brady had to drink before but mostly he just tasted Brady.  The linebacker really didn’t notice they were out in the middle of the street, they as well already be in the hotel room. He pushed his hips forced and began to grind against the other man’s hips as those fingers reached the edges of his chest.

“Ride’s here.” Quinn abruptly broke the kiss as a old blue civic pulled up with a chipped taxi logo painted along the side.

“Fuck, man.” Cushing grumbled as he was jerked towards the car as the other couples circled to pick off the vehicle.

Brady was not about to wait for another one to come along, he wasn’t sure how coherent Brian would be in a few more hours. He shoved them through the other pedestrians and several dirty looks and curses followed. Opening the door with a quick jerk, he shoved the bigger man inside the back seat. Cushing was confused by what happened, though mostly confused as two why they weren’t kissing anymore. He clumsily reached for the quarterback as Brady slide in behind him.

“Where to boys” A think accented voice filled the cab as older black woman looked at them through the rear view mirror.

“Hotel Charles” Brady managed to get out before the grabby hands of Brian distracted him again.

Maybe he had underestimated the other man’s willingness; Cushing was ready to be fucked right in the back of his car. Brady ran his hands up under that tight shirt against and picked up where he left off. He squeezed those nipples between his rough finger tips and brought the closest thing to Cushing could do and call it a squeal. The linebacker’s beefy body seized up as he toyed with those nipples and his teeth nibbled at those big lips. Flexing and bouncing, Cush’s pectorals twitched under the attention. Brady glanced down as he felt something smooth and cool under one of his wandering hands, a silver cross that hung around Brian’s thick neck.

“Nothing messy back or its double,” The lady driver mentioned off handily as she turned down another street, and they were another street closer.

Already distracted by the cross, Brady gave a nod and slowly moved his hands down along Brian’s body to rest in a slightly safer spot. Cushing gave an annoyed grunt as he pouted his lips, he tugged at the other’s arms to get them back to his chest.

“Don’t want to be rude, right?” He reminded the other man as he reached up and tugged on the thin chain around the other’s neck, “Good Catholics aren’t rude.”

“Good Catholics don’t get sloppy drunk and fuck either.” Cushing muttered as he felt his cross being pulled on, a lucky charm he carried through his life.

“But we just observing the holiday days.” Brady leaned in and kissed those pouting flips as he pulled the cross out and rubbed it against his fingers. He wasn’t sure why he was so interested, maybe it was the contradiction of a holy symbol dangling from the neck of horny meathead.

“Yea, observing…” Brian pushed himself over and leaned heavily against the former Notre Dame player. Under the influence of strong spirits, he ran a hand down to Brady’s crotch and gave it a squeeze as their lips met again. Cushing could be surprisingly delicate as he worked his fingers around the denim covered shaft while his tongue pushed out of his alcohol flavored mouth.

“A’right boys, we here” The cab shuddered to a stop and the two men lurched in the back seat. She turned around in her seat to give them an inspection with her own eyes, “Guess no extra charge tonight…” She remarked with a smirk on her red painted lips.

“Saving it for the room” Quinn pushed the other man off his mouth, and held him against the other seat with a stiff arm. He clenched his fingers around a good amount of the man’s shirt while Cush looked at him with a come and fuck me look.

“Yea, the room” Brian ran a hand along the along the held him back, Quinn did have some nice sinewy, thick arms on him. He tried to buck the hand off but he was too drunk to much more than just wiggle against the other.

“Thanks for the ride” Brady gave her about double the fare as he pulled his linebacker out of the cab.

 It took a slight moment since Cushing was more stumbling than walking, but they made it into the moody interior of the old building. The lights were more yellow than white, and the walls were in dark colors. A lone man, about fifty or so, stood at the dark wood welcome desk as the two made their way over to the elevator. He gave a dignified arch of his brow as he watched two men grope and pull at one another on his way past him before turning his attention back his paper work. The portraits on the wall, leftovers from when the building was a private mansion of a wealthy family, were even more impassive as they continued their blank century long stares. The two didn’t cross paths with anyone else as they moved into the gold and brown elevator.

“Place is kinda creepy.” Cushing leaned against the elevator wall, with one hand wrapped around one of the tarnished rails.

“Its historical and last place I could find.” Quinn shrugged indifferently to his surroundings as they elevator lurched up.

“Should’ve gone to my hotel,” Cushing rubbed his hand along his crotch, which was bulging from all that car foreplay, “Less creepy.”

“Stop bitching, your dick is still hard.” Brady grabbed the bigger man’s neck and forced their lips together to change the subject. The quarterback pinned him again, just like Cushing had done to him so many times before. He pushed his large hand up along the other man’s body until he got up to his chest. Tugging intently, Brady worked the thick nipple until the linebacker was shivering against him.

The two continued to go at it until the old elevator jerked to a halting stop, which several broke their mood. Quinn, with a hand wrapped up in the hem of the other man’s shirt, pulled Brian out of the polished wooden interior of the elevator. The hotel hallway was cramped for two men of their size, but no one else seemed to be on this floor. The lights overhead were yellow and the dark walls sucked the brightness out of the air. Brian gave a bemused look around, and made some haunted house comments as Brady led him to his door.

“Feel like something is going to grab me through the wall, Quinn.” Cushing joked and then laughed at his liquor fueled humor.

“You will be too busy to notice any ghosts.” Quinn promised as he pushed the door open, the hinges squeaked as they moved.

“Confident aren’t ya?” Brian slide on inside the dark room and was roughly stripped of his shirt from behind by the quarterback. Not shirtless, Quinn wasted no time in feeling up the curves of thick muscle. He dug his fingers into the other’s body, one hand cupping a pectoral while the other pinched on Cushing’s bicep.

“Never been so confident in my life,” Quinn worked his lips along the other’s ear as he whispered. He had been humiliated and bruised by this man time after time; he had seen championship dreams ruined by this man. Brady was going to get him begging to be fucked, a kind of redemption.

“Uh, fuck,” Brian tilted his head back as those lips moved down a long his neck and the chills continued on down. He ran a hand along Quinn’s forearm as those fingers manipulated his nipple till it thickened out. Cushing may have had a jerk off or two to Brady in college, but this wasn’t a lifelong dream. This was a drunken one night stand  in the Big Easy.

Brady pushed Brian forward to his bedroom; they had some direction from the street lights outside. While sucking on the man’s thick neck, Brady kept one eye focused on the path ahead until they were at the foot of the bed. The ornate headboard made up golden curves of painted metal gleamed by the light from the window. He shoved Cushing face down into the bed, and they both made a noise when colliding.  He wasn’t going to be waiting around to get this going, and he doubted drunken Brian had much self control.

“Comfy…” Cushing nuzzled his face into the thick comforter while his hands grabbed on to the silken surface.

“It has its charms, but you are too scared of the ghosts to notice.” Brady took a moment to look over the wide back of the linebacker on his bed. Rippling and flexing with his movements, Cushing’s back popped under Quinn’s eyes even in the little light that came into the room. He reached down to feel those well developed shoulders, moved his fingers down those strong lats and finally came to rest on the trim waist.

“Unbutton your jeans.” Quinn commanded as he tugged on the back of other man’s jeans, and was answered with a subtle shift and mumbling response.

Cushing was drunk enough to do whatever he wanted, or just especially horny. With a series of strong tugs, the jeans were coming down and unveiling the big, athletic ass framed in a jock strap. He had to bite his lip at the sight of it; this was going to be the most perfect fuck. When the designer jeans were dropped on the floor, he had Cushing almost completely naked on his bed. Quinn began to strip himself down, watching as the other man began to grow restless on the sheets.

“What’s taking so long?” The faux hawked linebacker turned his head back and could make of only some of Brady’s features in the shadows. A swift hand slapped him on his ass, which drew a surprise groan from his lips and shut him up.

“You were always reckless, Cushing.” Brady, now with his lean, sinewy figure nude, leaned down to kiss along the other man’s shoulders. He reached out and slowly worked his fingers over Brian’s chin to touch those full lips.

He didn’t need any coaxing as his lips pursed and kissed against the roughen finger tips. Cushing welcomed them into his wet mouth and sucked on them with a hungry urgency. With the mouth working away, Quinn began to grind himself against the bigger athlete. He kept his free hand on Brian’s waist while his hips drove into the other’s backside, those cheeks jiggling as his groin popped them. After a few moments of those lips working on his fingers, Brady tugged on the other’s hip.

“Bring your hips up.”

With the fingers moving away from his mouth, Cushing arched his back and raised his ass up some. He didn’t have to wait long till he felt Brady’s slick tongue slide down into his crack. He heaved a breath as his body shuddered with pleasure from the quarterback’s touch, his fingers digging into the once unruffled bed. The tongue laced around his hole and teased him with its wet texture, the large muscles of his body flexed as he arched himself more. The wet slurps were mixed with Cushing’s moans as the bed began to creak under his moving weight; all adding to a sexual symphony in the otherwise quiet hotel.

Brady went to work on loosening him up, using the steady gnawing of his lips and then his fingers adding pressure. He reached his other hand around to feel on the pouch of Brian’s jockstrap, it was bulging with his hard cock. With a tug of his hand, the swollen flesh dropped free for his hand to work it. Quinn stroked, licked and fingered in a furious manner to get Cushing ready to be fucked. The linebacker was moaning and humping back against his mouth, those thick cheeks dimpling as they flexed with motion. Brady was amused by how much Brian was giving in, what a greedy bottom he was being with such little pushing.

‘We all got our secrets…’

“Jesus dude, just fuck me already” Cushing moaned out as he looked back to see if Quinn was getting any closer to sticking it in, even if he was enjoying this rim job. The silver cross he wore dangled around his neck, it flashed for a moment before it went dark against his body.

“Just trying to make it easy on you…” Quinn lifted himself away from the bubble ass and straightened himself up behind Brian. He licked the pre from the hand that was stroking the other man, “Just as impatient in bed as you are on the field, huh.”

“Can’t hold it much long, Quinn” Cushing admitted as he felt his dick jerk underneath him, the tip of it oozing against the bed. He felt hot all over, his head was lost in a fog of liquor and sex; how much longer was he supposed to wait.

“Let me get this on,” Quinn had pulled the condom from the pocket of his jeans and expertly rolled it on to his hard cock,” And then I’ll give you want you want, Cushing.” He leaned down to pressed his lips close to the other’s ear, “Just tell me what it is.”

“Stop playin’ games.” Brian panted as he felt the slick cock sliding along the crack of his powerful ass. He gave a sharp moan as Quinn slapped his hand against his backside, “To fuck me, want you to fuck me.” He breathed out before biting on his bottom lip, his body full of anxious tension.

“Just making sure, Cush” Brady leaned back to watch himself sink into the other’s body, he let out a groan as he got swallowed by tight heat. A tightening sense of pleasure gripped his body, the lean muscles all popping out under his skin as he hilted himself into the football player. He needed a moment to breathe and focus before he could even think about thrusting, not that Brian seemed to mind.

“Ah damn” He groaned into the bed as his faux hawked head pressed into the bed, he might be real drunk but he wasn’t that far gone. Cushing pulled at the bed as his muscles contracted around Brady’s flesh as it pushed into his body. As much as he was used to taking a hit, he still needed a moment when taking a fucking.

They gradually built into a rhythm with relative ease, considering they had never been together before. Maybe it was just a blessing or a weird closeness from the field, they knew each other’s movements as though this was just another night in bed. Cushing knew the perfect moment when to squeeze his inner muscles and Brady responded with a thrust right to his prostate. Brian was becoming a moaning mess of muscle and sweat as mind was submerged into pleasure and his body was controlled by reactions. Pounding and grabbing, the two athletes were using those well honed bodies as instruments to make each sing moans.

Quinn used one hand to brace himself against Cushing while the other wrapped tightly around his cock. He was one trying to draw it out, the one who had some focus beyond fucking. His hair was sticking to his hair, the sweat running down his body as the heat built up in the room and he could see some sheen along Cushing’s figure. It was surreal that he was here now, that he was fucking the star USC Trojan linebacker; the one man that had made his mission to lay him out. Brady had to smile as he felt those inner muscles frantically milking his dick as Brian came. He joined in the other man’s loud moans as he felt the white hot rush of climax, letting himself go in this hot, drunken night.

“So…fucking perfect…” Cushing stated the obvious as his thick body finally began to relax, satisfied by the fucking Brady had just given him. The dark contours of the room blurred into totally darkness as the quarterback bulled out of his body and his body slumped against the bed.

Brady crossed himself after doing his last act of sin before lent, or well this type of sin anyway. He lay down beside Cushing, who was already asleep by the look on his face, and just took it all in. With those big lips soft and relaxed, Quinn could see how young Brian looked at rest. Reaching out a hand, he toyed with the silver cross on the other man’s thick neck as Quinn rolled thoughts in his increasingly tired mind.

He’d be gone and out in the morning, back to his life in Cleveland and unraveling career with the Browns. Forty days could be a long time, but this was good thing to keep in back of his head when alone. Well time does have a way of going faster than you expect, Quinn would be back to his old games.

‘And with a new number to call…”

 


End file.
